


Renegades

by Psychedelic_dreams_01



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Basically everybody - Freeform, Latino Jesse McCree, M/M, Rating May Change, Romance, Slow Burn, will add tags as story goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychedelic_dreams_01/pseuds/Psychedelic_dreams_01
Summary: While seeking redemption for the unforgivable crime he had committed, Hanzo finds forgiveness in the very person he had thought he murdered. With the forgiveness comes an offer, with the offer a place in Overwatch and a person Hanzo can remember from a distant memory- someone he never thought he'd see again. Naturally dislike and distrust are his first reactions, and unsurprisingly the feeling is mutual. That much Hanzo expected and deserved.So when the animosity changed to an equally mutual friendship and chance at redemption, Hanzo is taken just as much by surprise as McCree.Aka the story in which Hanzo learns to forgive himself and McCree learns how to trust someone again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Overwatch fanfic so please excuse anything that may seem OOC- if that's the case just point it out to me. 
> 
> Sorry if things seem confusing for a first chapter, I promise it will make sense as things go on.
> 
> Shout out to Jelly for bearing my incessant yelling about Overwatch as well as helping me name this thing and to my wonderful Beta reader who can be found here on Tumblr: http://andrewsmolyard.tumblr.com/ <3

Time was going too slowly within the small room that was confining Reyes and himself, McCree was succumbing to the boredom that had been seeping in since they first settled here, restlessness manifesting in pacing. Minutes ago he had been sat, but fidgeting with his comm could only be so entertaining.

Their mission here so far had been purely waiting, meant to be meeting with a contact who had refused to speak unless in a face to face situation and then proceeded to cancel at the last moment, rescheduling for the next day with barely an explanation. Naturally it had set Reyes on edge, he was currently sat doing some digging on his data pad as he sought to figure out the reason for the cancellation, scanning the area for any possible activity that could have spooked their contact.

McCree had to admit, he wasn’t so interested in this mission. He was here solely for back-up should things deteriorate or something unexpected occur. Blackwatch’s presence in the area was only temporary- by tomorrow evening they would be gone, scheduled to be picked up at eight sharp. The presence of just the two of them was meant to keep a low profile for what should be an easy mission, but said mission was boring and gained no interest from one of the two.

Finally Reyes looked up, casting McCree an irritable look at what had to be his fiftieth pace of the room. The look was sent right back.

“Jesse, if you keep pacing I’m gonna throw something at you. Sit down,” Reyes commanded, his gaze falling back to the data pad as he kept working.

McCree huffed in response. “There ain’t much to do but sit there, and I’m tired of that.”

“Then go have a smoke or something, just stop distracting me.”

“Y’know, that’s gotta be the first good idea you’ve had all day.”

McCree was already out of the door when the book came flying at him in retaliation.

 

Once outside the rather run down hotel, McCree found himself a spot in which he was hidden enough by the building and yet could still see the only pathway that ran alongside the hotel, keeping his back against the building wall to ensure he had all angles covered. You could never be too safe.

Pulling out a cigar and his lighter, McCree crossed his legs and looked up at the sky to observe the soft hues created by the dying light, the pinks and purples fading into blue, the colour deepening the further it got from the sun while the vibrant orange was hidden behind the surrounding buildings.

It was pretty, McCree was certainly able to appreciate a good sunset despite the habit of comparing it to the sunsets he’d observed back where he would call ‘home’. There he always enjoyed watching the sun dip behind the horizon, the colours it created and the relief it brought to all in the desert lands- the sun left and took with it the scorching heat even if the coolness took its time to settle in.

A street lamp nearby flickered on, drawing McCree’s attention. The darkness of the surrounding pathway hadn’t seemed so dark until this one light highlighted the shadows, the lone streetlamp seeming to be the only one working along this path as both ways remained shrouded in the shadows.

It put McCree on edge, more alert than he had been earlier yet barely shifting, eyes glancing up and down the pathway for anything out of the ordinary as he continued to draw long breaths from his cigar.

For a few minutes all was still, the smoke curling ever upwards the only major movement McCree could see, not even noting it as he continued to keep his guard up, watching the area with a keen eye as he took his time to finish his cigar. So far all was peaceful.

Of course, it didn’t stay that way.

A silhouette shifted in the shadows, McCree's hand instantly finding comfort against Peacekeeper at his hip, not drawing but ready. Reyes had warned him that this area was on the outskirts of Yakuza territory, and McCree knew better than to just ignore a shady figure sticking to the shadows.  
So he kept observing, watching the person make their way forwards at a steady pace.

As they drew nearer McCree was able to start making out features through the semi-darkness; male, long hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, clenched tightly with both hands, civilian clothing.

It told him little of what the man was doing walking out so late, face turned down to the pavement and looking like he was up to no good.  
McCree frowned, eyes narrowed as the man approached the street light, hand still having not left the weapon at his side. With the added light he'd be able to see more details, more features that might either explain the stranger's intentions or at least give McCree something to describe to Reyes later.

Yet, most thoughts of the possible ill-intentions this individual may have held vanished as the light fell upon him.

First thing McCree made out was the frown, the haunted look that twisted his face into an expression laden with stress, an obviously intense battle raging within him.  
So intense that he startled himself by accidentally kicking an empty can on the street, physically jolting at the noise as he stared down at the can, the surprise shifting to irritation as he glared down at it.

McCree recognised the look on this man's face. It was an expression he himself had worn before, one brought about by a sense of hopelessness and confusion, an uncertainty about what to do and what comes next, fear for the future and yet lost in the present.

Such an expression made McCree relax only slightly, an odd sense of understanding towards this complete stranger seeping in. He felt more confident that this guy was a local battling his problems— maybe that meant his issues related to the local Yakuza, maybe it meant he had issues more along normal lines of an everyday citizen.  
The stranger didn't move from where he had stopped, glaring at the can as if it was the cause of all his problems, seeming to get more distressed with it the longer he stared. It was obvious he was in too much turmoil to have noticed McCree’s presence.  
McCree was able to make out in the light that the clutch he had on his bag was tight enough for his knuckles to be white, his body tense to match the haunted expression that echoed the times McCree had been so lost in his own life.  
A deep sigh was pulled from McCree as he put out the cigar. He wanted to help. Lord knows how far a kind face could have helped him, how much he needed a few gentle words and someone to take the time of day to help him pull his life back together when he’d fallen astray. A helping hand, a face that cared.  
Gabe became just that for him.

Yet McCree knew he shouldn’t be interfering.

What he should do was let this man be, remain hidden and silent to keep his low profile and just observe. He shouldn’t be involving himself in the life of a stranger who for all he knew could be damn well acting and baiting McCree.

But since when did he do as he was supposed to?

McCree righted himself, uncrossing his legs and standing up straight. He started to make his way towards the man at the edge of the darkness, approaching with clear indication of his presence and intentions being innocent. All he wished to do was help; startling this man could result in the opposite for them both.

Civilian clothing meant nothing made his advance glaringly obvious, but McCree certainly made up for it with his heavy footfalls, by no means a quiet or subtle person. The closer he got the louder his steps would seem, a friendly smile already pulling up the corners of his lips.

Despite it all it wasn’t until McCree was a stone throw away from the stranger that he was noticed, speaking to the startled expression directed at him.  
“Howdy. I didn’t mean to frighten you- but I can’t help but notice that you seem somewhat lost. You alright?”

The surprise remained on the stranger’s face for a moment more and left McCree questioning whether this man- obviously a local- could actually understand English. Yet that was answered when the expression changed to a scowl, eyes hardening and the glare sent McCree’s way poisonous.  
Now that he was closer he could make out the regal features and confirm the suspicion that they were of similar ages, the posture of the man in front of him straightening up as his expression stiffened.

“It is not your business,” the stranger snapped, the anger in his tone certainly coming through strong.

Yet the subtle wavering of his voice didn’t go amiss.

McCree held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just tryin’ to be nice.”

“Well don’t.”

The response had been immediate, paired with dark eyes flicking briefly over McCree seeming to take in his appearance before the stranger’s gaze was directed forwards again. He looked ready to bolt, yet pinned in place, pale and the tiredness in his features were not hidden by the scowl. If anything the expression made them seem clearer, making this man look ten years older than he truly was.

A moment of silence took over, McCree waiting for this man to march onwards and pretend this encounter never happened, the urge to do so written all over his face.

And yet it never came.

Instead the stranger’s eyes lowered back to the ground, shoulders tensing and bag being held tighter- were it even possible. Whatever was eating this guy up was sure leaving him with little strength to concentrate on something for longer than a few seconds. That’s what it looked like at least when the stranger went back to scowling at the floor, seeming to have forgotten the presence of another.

McCree folded his arms loosely across his chest, speaking again with the same calm tone he started with. “Look, clearly you’ve got somethin’ on your mind that’s got you out here lookin’ pale as a ghost. All I’m offerin’ is an ear to listen.”

The words did bring the man’s attention back to him, the scowl set harder but posture not correcting itself this time, remaining tense and defensive.

“You do not know me.” Again the words were spoken with enough irritation and anger that could make a lesser person flinch.

“That’s exactly the point. I’m just some random guy you can vent to then never have to see again.”

“I do not want to talk with you. My problems are none of your business.”

“Then why ain’t you left?”

No response was thrown back to that, but the anger and frustration the stranger held was still obvious, gaze finally thrown away from McCree back to the can from earlier. If the thing melted from the intensity of the glare McCree wouldn’t be all too surprised.

Tension had settled into the silence now crowding the two of them, a pause that seemed to draw on forever before it was broken by McCree’s sigh when it became apparent that this guy wasn’t going to move an inch.

“Right, I get it. You don’t want me nosin’ about in you’re life,” he started, finally giving in on trying to get something out of this man. All he’d wanted to do was help, but if the person in question was refusing it, there wasn’t much McCree could do.  
“In that case I suppose I’ll jus—”

“How much should you value family?”

The sudden question cut over McCree and made him pause, taken aback by the vast change in tone and volume as well as the weight such words held.  
No more were the words being snapped at him, but rather they were just about audible, spoken softly yet in a way that revealed that the sentence was an important one- its answer just as - if not more - valuable.

Before McCree got a chance to answer the stranger shook his head, muttering to himself in Japanese. He’d clearly hesitated too long as the guy took a step forwards, moving finally with the intention of leaving clear upon his face, scowl having shifted into a frown.

However it was a little too late for that.

“Now hold on a sec,” McCree said, placing a hand gently on the man’s shoulder. It worked in that he stopped walking away, but it didn’t lift his gaze.

McCree took a breath in, speaking before he had even fully considered the question. This was progress, he didn’t want to risk letting the guy go knowing he could have done something to help.

“‘How much should you value family’, huh? Well, personally I’d say a lot. Value them as people and their opinions. They ain’t gonna be around forever, and usually what they say is with your best interest at heart. Maybe you don’t wanna accept it or you’d rather reject what they’re tellin’ you. Hell, maybe you don’t believe a lick of what they’re tellin’ you, but my advice? At least listen. Usually they mean well even if it may be hard to accept it.”

McCree paused there, taking a deep breath. As he’d been talking the man had slowly turned himself to face him, not quite meeting McCree’s gaze but losing all traces of previous anger.  
The frown was being steadily replaced by an unreadable expression- not very encouraging yet better than outright rage or rejection.

So McCree continued, dropping his hand from this man’s shoulder.

“I’ve made some real stupid decisions in my life, and boy do I regret them. Everything could have been avoided if I’d only listened to my family. But there I was, young an’ stupid believin’ I was hot shit and knew better.” McCree hesitated there.

The mood had switched from tense to melancholy, this unexpected trip down memory lane quick to draw a kind of sadness from McCree, this stranger seeming to reflect the sentiment. Most definitely for different reasons, but it still brought the mood down into a more sombre feel.

Thoughts of his own mother, the person McCree valued the most in life were coming to mind at the mention of family, how much he treasured and loved her, the memories of the good times together- even the bad were getting a fond place in his heart just because they had her in it.  
What he wouldn’t give to have her back, to tell his young naïve self to just listen to her, do as he was told stop being so damn idiotic—

“I know you don’t know me or the crap I’ve done, but take it from me that those who act as ya guardians most likely say what they do ‘cause they wanna protect you and do what’s best for you. Whether they’re related or not,” McCree added, the last part coming with the thought of Reyes and all he had done for him, looking after him ever since he had pulled his ass out of the troubles of the Deadlock gang.

A silence settled once again, the atmosphere more relaxed but no less intense than it had been before. There were barely any sounds to listen to either, the occasional breeze rustling litter and leaves but otherwise a complete silence kept McCree and this stranger captured.

Neither seemed to want to break the silence. The stranger had clearly been affected by what he had heard, the neutral expression falling into a frown as his body tensed, gripping the strap of his bag tighter. He looked to be back to debating internally with himself, mulling over McCree’s words as the frown briefly flickered into a scowl before he seemed to deflate.  
Now everything about this man seemed to show signs of resignation, expression falling, gaze remaining lowered and the hold of his bag loose enough that the strap started slipping with no attempt made to correct it.

McCree didn’t wish to disturb the thoughts currently affecting this person, so allowed him to take his time to formulate his own sentence.

And when he did finally talk, it was in Japanese, leaving McCree to blink in confusion. He’d barely got started on asking for a repeat of what was said when it was done without prompting, tone just as quiet and subdued as before.

“Running will not help, will it?”

A bitter smile found its way onto McCree’s face, speaking volumes before he had even answered.

“From my experience, no. It doesn’t help none.”

Another pause followed by a heavy sigh from the stranger indicated that he was once again considering the response to his question. The bag slipped further down his shoulder with not a single move made to stop it yet and that resigned look shifted briefly into sadness.  
A new resolve seemed to find the guy as he straightened up, meeting McCree’s eye before bowing at the waist.

“I apologise for having made you remember unpleasant things,” he started, straightening up. “I did not mean to disturb your evening with such talk.”

McCree gave a proper smile at that, tilting his head as he watched this man. “Ain’t no need to apologise; I offered t’help, and I hope I did somethin’ that could be considered useful,” he replied, looking over the forced neutral expression and tired eyes he was being watched with.  
Poor guy looked like he needed a drink.

“If anythin’ I was the one to press you to talk, so I should be apologisin’.”

The stranger finally shifted with those final words, tugging the bag back onto his shoulder properly and standing up straighter with that new determination still etched into his features. But the resolve didn’t quite meet his eyes that looked dark and haunted revealing the tiredness and resignation from earlier were still plaguing him.

“Then I thank you for your time and words. They have indeed… helped me,” he said, the slight hesitance before the end of his sentence not going amiss.

Not enough time was given for McCree to reply before the stranger gave another brief bow of his head, speaking as he did so.

“But I must go. I apologise again for any inconvenience I may have caused.”

With that, he turned to face the way he had come and took three steps before pausing, looking over his shoulder. McCree could just make out the reserved curiosity in his face as the stranger now stood away from the streetlight in the almost darkness.

“May I ask for your name?”

What was most certainly the simplest question of the night had McCree off guard for a moment, blinking at the man paused in his retreat. Honestly, this person had a knack for asking unexpected questions.

McCree was undercover, he shouldn’t be giving his name out to complete strangers- even if he wasn’t undercover he still shouldn’t be handing it out to anyone and everyone who asked.

But he didn’t have to give his full name out. And besides, what was the harm in giving his first name to a person he was never going to see again?

So McCree offered one of his usual grins, recovering quickly from the initial surprise and tipping a hat currently not on his head. “The name’s Jesse. I would say it’s been a pleasure to meet you, but I feel what we’ve just been talkin’ about is too heavy for it to be any kinda ‘pleasant’.”

His words earned him a weak smile, brief and bitter, but a smile nonetheless. He’d take it.

“Thank you, Jesse.”

Those were the last words he said before the stranger turned once more, finally taking quick steps back down the alleyway, heading to where McCree could only assume his home was.

For a few moments McCree remained where he stood, watching the now empty pathway and merely considering the person he had just spoken to before he sighed heavily.

There was no use worrying about it now. ‘What’s done is done’. He could only hope his words helped in some manner.

As McCree retreated back against the wall of the hotel, retrieving his unfinished cigar to enjoy, he couldn’t have ever guessed what tomorrow would bring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so much longer than intended. Life's been a bit of a pain. I hope to get the next chapter to you a lot quicker next time <3

Life before he was visited by that… thing that claimed to be his brother had been simple, clear—

Keep low, keep moving, and keep the assassins at bay.

A simple existence with the only aim to be to keep going until he didn’t.

Small jobs kept a welcome change to the routine and provided a source of income, but there were only so many jobs a hired assassin could take in one area before he became too noticed.

And attention was something Hanzo avoided wherever he roamed.

A sure fire way to know he had extended his stay too long was the arrival of an assassin. Whether they were sent from the remnants of the Shimada-gumi or some fool who saw him as competition within their territory didn’t matter; the message was clear, as was the need to move once again.

Maybe it was a bit repetitive, but there was some safety in the familiarity of it.

So the disruption to his annual visit back to Hanamura certainly threw Hanzo off.

In the span of a few hours he had a definite objective. He was no longer focused on just existing, but to do so as far from the metal clad being that was insistent on following him as possible. It kept offering words and forgiveness which Hanzo knew to be false, trying to approach him without ever reciprocating the animosity Hanzo showed it.

Not it, him.

Hanzo still refused to completely accept that the cyborg was his brother. The idea his brother was even still alive by some miracle or curse was by itself a difficult concept to grasp, especially after so many years of believing Genji to be dead, so long of grieving and hating himself for the murder of the one person he had left— to have someone come to him more omnic than man and call himself Genji… Well, it wasn’t something anybody could simply accept and move on.

Denial and rage at the impostor had led Hanzo to flee the area immediately after he had finished honouring his brother, heading north, deep into the Nagano prefecture. It wasn’t enough travel for an entire day, but there was only so far he could travel on an hour of sleep taken not long after his first confrontation with Genji.

After a necessary rest in a location Hanzo had ensured was secure enough to quell his incessant paranoia, it became apparent he was being followed.

It started off as a feeling, an inkling that he was being watched that allowed Hanzo to catch glimpses of something reflective here and there- up on that building, disappearing into that alley- small signals that proved his suspicions true.

Placing himself in what looked to be a cornered alley seemed to draw out his hunter, enabling Hanzo to attack on instinct and only then did he recognise the figure from the night before.

Unfortunately the pattern kept persisting.

Hanzo would travel far, on occasion leaving Japan as he had done a fair few times before, only to see that visored face and green lights appear one week or another. That it followed him even outside of Japan certainly hadn’t pleased him.

Hanzo would attack, show his displeasure at being stalked and with each interaction he’d refuse to listen to the calls thrown out at him to focus on escaping, the hope that this would be the last meeting growing fainter with each encounter.

One exchange in particular kept his mind racing for days after; Genji finally seized the chance to speak to him after cornering Hanzo in an abandoned building on the outskirts of Sancheong. The room he’d run into had a collapsed roof, the only entrance and exit the door which he had blindly run through.

An amateur mistake that gave Hanzo no other choice but to listen to the being that then stood just past the doorway.

“You seek out redemption, yet you run whenever I try offer you the chance,” he had said, filtered voice sounding tired.

“All you have offered so far have been false words of forgiveness.”

“You have not let me speak long enough to offer more!”

Hanzo had hesitated, stilled in his position with his bow drawn and arrow nocked, aimed steadily at the cyborg’s head. Curiosity finally had won.

“And what exactly would ‘more’ consist of?”

That had created a spark of eagerness, seen in the way Genji seemed to have perked up and took a single step forwards.

“I have said this before, Hanzo- the world is changing yet again, and as such there are things that can and must be done to help maintain the peace. You wish for redemption by righting your wrongs, but perhaps there is more you can do.”

“Spit it out; what would you ask of me?”

“A recall has gone out- join me in returning to Overwatch.”

Hanzo had replied by releasing his arrow.

Apparently the message hadn’t been received, as mere days after he had been found again.

Yet, the time between each ‘visit’ grew, right up until Genji had once again gotten him to listen to his words, pressing for Hanzo to join Overwatch- only this time the offer came with a location.

Watchpoint: Gibraltar.

That day four weeks ago had been the last time Hanzo had seen Genji. Since then, he’d been roaming just as he had done before hand.

Only, with the knowledge that his brother was possibly still alive, his previous routine and way of life did not seem to settle back.

The doubt that this person was indeed Genji still plagued Hanzo despite having seen his eyes; eyes which Hanzo had instantly recognised even through the heavy scarring.

But that wasn’t enough to lay his doubts to rest, and hearing the cyborg confirm his identity certainly didn’t cut it either; even less so when Hanzo thought of the way his life had been spared. The Genji he had known would not have hesitated. He would have enacted his revenge- his right- and cut Hanzo down after besting him as he had.

That being could easily be lying about his identity, an impostor to trick Hanzo into going some place far from home. Unfamiliar land to make him an easy target, a set place with a prepared ambush just waiting for their target to arrive.

Perhaps it was a very elaborate plan for one person, a far fetched idea created by his paranoia- but there were a fair amount of people who wished for Hanzo either dead or captured. Maybe some would be willing to go to such lengths to get him.

Even with this strong doubt in mind Hanzo couldn’t push the encounters aside and continue with his life the way he had before.

And that was why he currently found himself sat in the back of a truck, hidden amongst the crates filled with stock that evidently was all meant for a shop judging by the various bottled soft drinks and boxed snacks.

Because, as much as Hanzo argued that that couldn’t be Genji, various factors made him believe it was or at least could be him; and even the slightest chance was one that Hanzo was not willing to toss aside without further investigation.

So here he was, crammed with his small pack of supplies, in an overbearingly hot truck that was taking him closer to the Watchpoint. No transport would take him right to the doorstep, that much was obvious, but a few minutes of observing after a failed attempt at eavesdropping allowed Hanzo to figure out that this truck would take him further south. The driver had planned the route and marked a pit stop on his map, and it was there that Hanzo would take leave of this stuffy vehicle to find the rest of his way on foot.

The exact location of Watchpoint: Gibraltar had been easy enough to find what with both the aid of a few history websites that marked various bases within their articles on Overwatch and the renewed media focus on rumoured activity occurring specifically at the Gibraltar base.

From there all Hanzo had to do was get himself a way into Europe and then into Gibraltar.

That had been the easy part as Hanzo assumed getting onto the base itself would be a lot harder if there were indeed ex-Overwatch operatives on site. Hanzo planned on avoiding all but Genji, which certainly meant getting onto the base undetected would be a challenge.

Before Hanzo could take the time to consider strategy or possible plans, an obvious tilt signalled the truck was turning, a few pallets leaning dangerously with motion in his direction. Luckily they didn’t fall, but that didn’t mean Hanzo took his eyes off of them as he listened and felt the movements of the vehicle, noting what had to be a change in speed.

They must be coming to the pit stop. It was the only logical answer to what was going on and, even if he didn’t wish to admit it even to himself, Hanzo was hoping that they had arrived at the stop. After all, there were only so many hours in which a person could sit in a small corner before various parts of their body went numb or cramped- and that wasn’t counting the unventilated air that only grew hotter with the day.

The slowed speed made it easier for Hanzo to pull himself to his feet, trying to work out the stiffness in his body with a few stretches despite the limited space available. With nothing else to do but wait until the vehicle stopped, Hanzo found space in his bag to place two of the litre bottles of water he had been eying most of the journey. If outside was just as hot as in here, he’d certainly be needing them.

A small jolt indicated the truck had come to a standstill, and after waiting for a couple of minutes to ensure that the driver had left, Hanzo started to pick the lock to the double doors at the back. It was a simple task, just as easy now as it had been when he had broken in in the first place.

Relocking it was just as easy, done quickly and followed by Hanzo finally surveying his surroundings.

They’d come to stop at what was clearly a small service station close enough to the main road the truck had just left that the constant sound of vehicles speeding by was clear even through the line of trees and bushes. They were further inland than Hanzo had hoped they would be, but that wasn’t a major concern, not when Gibraltar was only a small stretch of land in comparison to most places.

Five vehicles including the truck were parked in the small area, no other person either in their car or out in the parking lot, leaving Hanzo to turn his attention briefly to the small shop.

Through the window he spotted the truck’s driver walking out of sight down an aisle, moving past a group of individuals laughing together as they idled at the end of one of the shelves.

Hanzo watched for a second longer before taking one last glance about to ensure he was alone, using the truck to hide himself from those inside the store as he finally pulled out the old phone he had been using for guidance.

Fifteen miles south lay his final destination. It would take him some time to get there, especially as he had no choice now but to travel by foot. A look to the sky told him that if he wished to get there before night fell then he had better get moving.

Those water bottles would most certainly come in handy.

\--------------

The only trace of the sun was no more than colours in the sky that splashed onto the sparse clouds when Hanzo finally arrived at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, the oranges, pinks, and purples starting to give way to deeper hues of night with a few stars already starting to show themselves against the darkest of the blues. Right on the coastline Hanzo could clearly make out the sound of the sea, a peaceful white noise of sorts that was only broken by the rare cry of a seagull flying overhead, a sound that rang out once or twice before that soothing tone of water and night time insects took over once again.

The front of the watchpoint had to be around here somewhere, but Hanzo had never been here before and nor had he approached from the main roads, wanting to avoid attention on himself as much as possible. It meant he felt a frown pulling at his face, taking the moment to have a short rest as he decided what to do.

He hadn’t meant to get here so late but there was no helping that now. Technically he could wait till morning, find a place to camp out in this general area- he was tired and the idea of settling somewhere to eat and sleep did sound appealing- but with the watchpoint so close what was the point? Hanzo only had so many rations and despite trying to conserve it his water was already starting to run low.

No, he was best off getting in to the watchpoint. How was the only question.

And that got answered by a scan of the cliff face towering above, what seemed to be an illuminated ledge offering an idea of a place Hanzo could get access to the building. Maybe it would be breaking in, but at this point he wasn’t all too concerned over that even if logically he knew that appearing unannounced in what was now night to an entire base full of highly trained individuals was not the best idea.

Hanzo was obviously not taking a proper path, following what seemed to be a disused hiking trail, picking his own way upwards to the ledge that at the very least promised flatter ground were it not one of the parts of the watchpoint that were exposed. If that was the case he may have to look for another way into the base.

As luck would have it, there was no need to search any further when Hanzo finally stood on a patch of grassy land surrounded by buildings with what looked like a road of sorts leading deeper into the place.

Winds were stronger up here higher up the cliff, tugging at the ribbon holding up Hanzo’s hair and making it weakly crack as the grass and what little vegetation there was on this outcropping of rock rustled, the noise however not enough to drown out the still peaceful sighs of the sea.

It was still hot, and Hanzo was thankful for the breeze that was now cooling him off as he merely stood there and took in what he could see.

Through the darkness it wasn’t much, night having properly settled in now and a lack of lighting out in this section of the watchpoint left much to disappear into shadows. It seemed the lights were merely off, for- if Hanzo wasn’t mistaken- there were flood lights for the place, but only a select few weaker lamps were on, showing a high walkway that connected the building he was stood by to the one opposite it, soft lights lining the centre of the man made tunnel that curved out of view directly ahead.

Hanzo made to move forwards to get a better look at where he was, but he’d only taken two steps before three things happened at once.

The sound of doors opening alerted Hanzo to someone approaching, acting out of reflex when he dropped his bag to pull Storm Bow off his shoulder and grab an arrow to defend himself.

Normally Hanzo would have the arrow nocked and aimed in a matter of seconds, in position before he was even noticed- but this time he was slow. Much too slow.

Three brief streaks of blue accompanied by a small sound was the only warning before Hanzo felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his back, freezing awkwardly with Storm Bow only partway off his shoulder and an arm reaching for an arrow.

“Don’t even think of it,” the person- feminine, thick English accent- stated, gun held as steady as Hanzo was stood.

“Put the bow down slowly and let me see your hands,” she commanded.

Apparently Hanzo was taking too long to do as asked before it seemed this agent had taken into account his clothing, speaking again before Hanzo could so much as lower his arm.

“Wait, you do understand me, right? Shit, I don’t speak Japanese. Please tell me you can understand me- if not I guess I can… uhh…”

“I speak English.” Hanzo spoke if only to put her at ease, moving now to place his bow on the ground.

It was best he was cooperative- getting into a fight with an Overwatch agent was certainly not the best way to introduce himself. For now that meant complying.

“Oh!” she started, voice betraying her relief, “Good, ‘cause that would have been really awkward if you didn’t!”

The small laugh she gave after was followed by her clearing her throat, removing the weapon from his back. Hanzo didn’t need to turn to know it was still aimed at him however.

“Anyway- What’s your name and what are you doing here?”

“Shimada Hanzo- I came to see my brother.”

“Shimada?” she repeated, “Genji’s brother? I didn’t know he had one. At least, he never mentioned you to me.”

Despite it being a relief to hear that, it wasn’t exactly what Hanzo had been expecting. Then again, he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect but obvious hostility from everyone inside the watchpoint. He had assumed everyone would have known about his history with Genji and as such would treat him accordingly.

So, hearing that Genji hadn’t spoken of him was probably something he should have expected. Then again, maybe this agent only knew of his brother.

Finally Hanzo decided to risk looking over his shoulder as the woman fell into a momentary silence, humming to herself in thought.

Her voice had betrayed her mild surprise but her face showed it came with some deep thought, a frown on her young face as she seemed to stare at nothing, thinking through his words.

The agent was holding her weapon loosely, no real intention to use it from the looks of things, and dressed in casual clothing- possibly even her nightwear. It was hard to tell while trying to look at her without turning properly. One thing for sure was that she was wearing some sort of harness above it, something that was holding in place a glowing device, the blue ring of light it emitted slowly rotating.

She flicked back the short hair that had fallen into her eyes with a twist of her head and caught Hanzo staring as she did so.

“He never mentioned you to me but I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt here and trust you on this.” She lowered the weapon as she spoke, moving round to where Hanzo had laid Storm Bow on the floor, picking it up carefully.

As much as Hanzo disliked having another person touch his bow, he let her take it. Again, it wouldn’t do to start a worse first impression than he already had- not like being known as a murderer could be topped anyway.

“I’m just going to take this for now and if you follow me you can wait while I get Genji for you.”

Hanzo only nodded his understanding, walking a few paces behind her as she made her way back up to the door she had quite literally appeared through, walking up the steps that lead to it and pausing to type in a code.

The heavy duty doors opened with a small hiss, showing a short pathway carved out of the rock that lead to an entire room which had its ceiling too made out of the natural stone of the cliff.

What certainly caught his attention was the tire hanging above the ceiling just over one of the work spaces, Hanzo only looking away after staring at it for a few seconds.

From what he could tell now that he was glancing about the room, was that it served as a lab. The few tables were strewn with components for things Hanzo could only guess at, body armour and weapon parts joining the tools on the surfaces. A large and curved blank screen covered a wall near a blackboard, currently displaying nothing but the letter A- a logo of sorts.

Yet, despite the obvious use this room saw, it was far from messy, merely cluttered as though the person everything belonged to had merely paused their work to come back to it all at a later point.

Understandable what with how late it was getting.

The agent took him into the room and asked him to stand to a side, placing his bow down just as gently on one of the only available spaces.

“Just wait there, I’ll be right back with Genji- and don’t touch anything. Athena will tell me if you do.”

There was no time for questions as to just who this Athena was as another blink of blue had the woman vanish from the room.

With little else to do Hanzo inspected the room further, scanning first the blackboard ahead. Equations and writing were scribbled across it, a person’s notes as they worked in this lab on… whatever it was they were doing. His eyes moved next to look at the floor above- well, more like a balcony of sorts, the stairs to it behind him and the rails at the top stopping to give way to a glass wall encasing a circular outcrop and thin corridor that ran along one of the walls. From here Hanzo couldn’t see what the room was for, so he simply turned his gaze back to the doorway, this room holding nothing else of interest.

It wasn't too long after that the door the agent had gone through opened again, this time letting in none other than Genji on his own.

He looked elated to see Hanzo, his eagerness evident in the way he leaned forwards as he walked closer, making a beeline for Hanzo with quick steps and long strides. He practically radiated excitement, something that Hanzo just couldn’t understand as he watched, in no way sharing his brother’s excitement.

As much as he had come to see Genji, he now wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he was here, letting his brother speak first.

“Hanzo! You came! I must admit I was starting to think you wouldn’t,” Genji said, his voice removing any possible doubt that he wasn’t indeed happy.

He stopped just short of too close, leaning forwards anyway as he stood on the balls of his feet, seeming to wait for a response of sorts.

Yet he didn’t get one, only receiving one of Hanzo’s usual unfazed looks and an understanding of his unspoken comment; I almost didn’t.

Genji tilted his head to the side, watching Hanzo a moment more before falling back to stand properly on his feet, no longer pushing on the edges of Hanzo’s personal space. With that one movement he seemed to calm, no less enthusiastic but certainly appearing more relaxed.

“Really, Hanzo, I am very glad to see you here. There is much you can offer Overwatch and in return there is much it can offer you.”

The smile in Genji’s voice was clear despite the robotic hint it held and obvious barrier of his face plate, his words- no matter how gentle and honest they were- bringing a frown to Hanzo’s face.

It wasn’t that Hanzo didn’t appreciate Genji trying to be honest with him, it was just a struggle to accept this after so long believing his brother would despise him for what he had done.

And now Genji had just thrown in a phrase that held too many promises.

“I am here because you suggested it. I still doubt just how much I will be useful to Overwatch- and it to me.”

Hanzo’s frown must have looked sour enough for Genji to resign to the fact that currently he was going to get nowhere, as next thing he knew Genji was sighing, gesturing to the door.

“Come,” he started, a hand placed behind Hanzo’s back but not quite touching him, “I’m assuming you’re tired. And that you haven’t eaten. Normally I’d take you straight to our commander- Winston- but he’s finally gone to get some proper sleep so I hope you don’t mind speaking to him tomorrow.”

They started walking, Hanzo picking up his bow once more before being guided through the hallways and deeper into the building. Parts of the place looked to still be in repairs, being fixed or cleaned from apparent disuse, the areas currently cut off being explained by Genji who regained his excited spark as he told Hanzo of where things were, small moments from the past few weeks of recall that were amusing or simply noteworthy- at least, to Genji they were.

Hanzo was paying more attention to his surroundings than he was to Genji, not knowing any of the names being mentioned in his ramblings and in some way, not even caring.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to stay or be accepted by this Winston. Why bother getting to know about anyone in a place he was going to spend a few nights in at most?

As they walked towards the dorms, Genji guiding his brother to a room he could borrow for the night, they started to head towards a corridor on which a half closed door hid a group of people. That was only evident from the indiscernible chatter and laughter coming from behind the door, Genji paying it no mind as he merely told Hanzo the room was a just a place for everyone to ‘hang out’.

Curiosity had Hanzo look through the gap as they walked past, glancing in to briefly catch the eyes of another sat facing the front of the room but twisted to look in the direction of the door.

Brown eyes, dark skin and a flash of red were all Hanzo caught before they moved past, the sound of talk behind them fading away as Genji’s own voice took over once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to everyone who bullied my ass to write this and to those who betaed it. 
> 
> Thanks to Jelly, [Papa](http://onlythegayagenda.tumblr.com/) , [and the wonderful toaster_warlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toaster_Warlock)

**Author's Note:**

> It may take some time for me to get chapters out, so please bare with me. I'll try to make it at the very least a chapter a month but I hope to make it more than that!
> 
> Please comment and kudo if you enjoyed ^^


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